Body, Mind, and Soul
by aka Arashi
Summary: An AU continuation story based off the manga. It's been five years since Winry Rockbell has seen or heard from the Elric Brothers. When they return from war, broken inside and out, it's up to her to piece them back together.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes (9-14-06): **This is my first foray into FMA ficdom (try saying that 5 times fast). I'm following the manga and am canon up to chapter 62. There are plenty of differences between the anime and the manga, so if you don't want to be confused, I highly recommend heading to my bio and clicking on the links to the scanlation project.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA and I'm not making money off this.

**Spoiler Warning (Low):** Read up to Chapter 17 of the manga and you'll be fine. Also, one concept from the movie that I thought was well done.

**Special Thanks: **To Elin1 and my sis for beta reading.

**Chapter 1: Five Years Later**

There was nothing better than the smell of oil on metal or the feel of cold steel, bearings, and artificial muscles. She placed the last screw in her latest creation, feeling a sense of deep satisfaction. Dominic would be proud. Using his latest developments and a few of her own special modifications, she had created what she believed to be the lightest, strongest, and most advanced automail arm on the market.

Demand was high for new automail. But with the increased demand, new mechanics and designers were flocking to Rush Valley. The competition for business was as fierce as ever, but for Winry Rockbell, business was good.

She brushed a stray lock of hair from her face and hazarded a glance at her shop clock. It was 10:23 p.m. She did a quick mental count and realized that she'd been working on the automail for over twelve hours without a break.

She had a habit of getting caught up in her work. Stiff limbs complained as she got to her feet and began tidying her workspace. Her stomach gurgled, an uncomfortable reminder of the fact that she'd gone half a day without eating.

"Winry? You in the back?"

Before she could answer, a familiar face peered through the open door. With a smile and a wave, Winry's best friend sauntered into the automail shop room.

"Hey Paninya," Winry said with a smile of her own. "What's up?"

"Nothing. Just figured you were going to pull another all-nighter, so I thought I'd come keep you company." Paninya pulled out a sack that she'd been holding behind her back, displaying it proudly. "And I figured you hadn't eaten anything for dinner, lunch, and possibly breakfast, so I took the liberties of borrowing some food from the old man."

Winry laughed weakly. "Old man, eh? Don't let Mr. Dominic hear you say that..."

"Ya, I don't think he'd be too keen to know I raided his fridge either." Paninya giggled guiltily.

Winry pulled off her work gloves and opened the grocery bag. "Well, that'll just be our little secret then."

Winry was about to bite in to a delicious looking sandwich when Paninya suddenly bolted to her feet. "Holy wow, is that what I think it is?" The dark skinned woman darted around the table with her characteristic speed.

"I just finished it." Winry beamed.

Paninya lifted the automail arm as though it were a baby, cradling it gently. "It's... It's..."

"Super light?" Winry offered. "Perfectly crafted? Exquisitely detailed and articulated?"

Paninya laughed and hefted the arm over her shoulder easily, balancing it. "Actually, I was gonna say, 'It's Mine' but I think you'd have a few objections to that. Not to mention the fact that I've totally given up all forms of thievery."

"What do you need an automail arm for anyway?" Winry grinned and pointed to Paninya's perfectly good flesh and blood arms.

Paninya shrugged. "Good point. So when you gonna make me a matching set of legs using these new specs? Huh? Huh? Pretty please?"

"And steal one of Mr. Dominic's valued customers? I think not!" Winry teased. "Besides, he's still the master. I'm pretty sure your legs beat that arm for quality and function."

"Ha, you keep saying that, but everyone in Rush Valley knows better. You're good, Winry. Quite possibly the best mechanic this town has ever seen. Even the old man says so!"

Winry hid her blush behind her sandwich. "He didn't really say something like that."

Paninya gave her a look of amusement and understanding. "Well, maybe he's never said it just like that, but after all these years, I think you can tell what he's thinking just as well as I can."

Winry took a bite of her dinner, giving herself an excuse for keeping silent. Paninya pulled the arm off her shoulder and started fiddling around with it, admiring it from all angles.

"This really is a piece of work. You're gonna make a killing on it."

"Nope." Winry swallowed and took a drink from a water bottle she kept handy. "That's the prototype. I'll just use it for a display piece in the shop."

Paninya looked skeptical. "You hardly need to leave something like this lying around to draw in more customers. Your work is piling up around you as it is." Paninya indicated racks and racks of half finished automail limbs and parts.

"I just..." Winry trailed off. "Well, I like to keep a few of my completed works around. Just in case... it's needed."

Paninya sighed.

It had been five years since the young mechanic had settled in Rush Valley. For five years she had devoted herself to becoming the best automail designer. After a while, Dominic had seen how fast she was improving, and slowly started taking her under his wings, teaching her everything he knew about the craft.

And though her skills continued to improve greatly, Winry never seemed satisfied.

When the constant border skirmishes with Creta in the west and Aeruga in the south broke out into full scale fighting, wounded soldiers came by the hundreds to be fitted with automail replacements for limbs lost in battle. Winry was busier than ever, helping Mr. Garfiel and her mentor meet the demands. She seemed too busy to think about anything other than her duties as an automail mechanic, but Paninya knew better.

If Winry wasn't working on automail, she could be found sifting through stacks of depressing newspapers, reading any tidbits she could find about battles and anything relating to military operations.

And just when it seemed like things couldn't get any worse for the nation of Amestris, war was officially declared with the powerful Drachma Empire of the north. The borders of the nation were constantly being drawn and redrawn as the fighting grew even more intense. Even though the war had given Rush Valley a major source of income, the influx of wounded war vets had cast a shadow over the prosperity.

Mr. Dominic called it, "The War to End All Wars." Paninya wasn't sure what he meant by it, but it was ominous nonetheless. The old man had lived through a lifetime of war, but there was something about the recent conflicts that had him talking as though the end was near.

And through it all, Winry remained steadfast, throwing every drop of her blood, sweat, and tears into her work. Paninya looked up to her and did what she could to keep the young mechanic on her feet, but she had a feeling that each day that passed took something from her friend. Winry was changing, bit by bit. The youthful girl with the quick smile and quicker temper was gone. A quiet sadness had settled about her.

Winry never talked about it, and Paninya had learned that there were certain topics of conversation that were better left untouched.

As she watched her friend eat, Paninya felt the weight of the years and all the hardships they'd gone through together. She took one more look at the automail arm and then placed it on a nearby display stand. It truly was perfect. Winry had crafted it with a lover's touch, working her heart and soul into the design.

And though she claimed otherwise, Paninya knew that it wasn't really meant as a display piece. After five years, it was hard not to notice the pattern.

Every time she developed a new crafting technique, she tested it by building a right arm and then a partial left leg to match.

Always lighter, always stronger... and over the course of the years, the sizes had slowing changed, growing... like a living person, alive in her mind.

Five years and they hadn't heard a word from them. Five years and she was still waiting. Five years and she was still crafting automail with him in mind. Five years and she hadn't given up hope.

Five years...

But how much longer would she be able to hold out? It was one more question Paninya was afraid to ask.

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**(A/N2): **Chapter 1 is more or less a teaser trailer. Tune in next week for chapter 2! You can keep an eye on my progress in my bio!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes (9-21-06): **Thanks for the awesome positive feedback! If you left a signed review I sent you a reply.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA and I'm not making money off this.

**Spoiler Warning (Low):** Nothing new! 8D

**Special Thanks: **To Elin1 and my sis for beta reading.

**Chapter 2 **

It was raining on the night that Winry finished up a perfect leg to match the arm. News had spread of the technological achievement that she'd been able to make. Work orders had doubled and Winry had to admit that the prospect of trying to fill them was daunting, to say the least.

Dominic had been proud, but still a bit too proud to show it properly. The aging man had taken the completed arm and put it through the official series of stress tests and measurements, announcing the phenomenal findings stoically. The board of directors at the Automail Quality Inspection Agency had practically dragged Winry off to work for the military directly, but Dominic had put his foot down at that.

"This girl lives to help people. And you dogs would have her use her talents to advance your wars? Unacceptable."

He'd followed up by threatening to unleash Paninya's latest built-in weaponry against them. The A.Q.I.A. reps had disappeared into the blue, leaving Winry with a sense of growing love and affection for the crotchety old man who had become something of a grandfather to her.

He was about the closest thing to family that she had left.

------------

"Do you want to go out tonight to celebrate?" Paninya asked her later.

"Ok," Winry replied, grabbing her coat and umbrella and allowing Paninya to guide her out of the shop and halfway to the pub district before she realized she had no idea what the occasion was.

"Wait a minute. What are we celebrating?" Winry asked. Had she missed an important holiday? Someone's birthday perhaps?

"The completion of my new and improved leg, of course!" The dark skinned girl grinned from ear to ear, showing off a set of perfect white teeth.

Winry rolled her eyes and punched her friend playfully on the shoulder. "If I catch you anywhere near that thing, I take no responsibility for damage caused by random flying wrenches."

Paninya laughed, "I'd like to see you try and hit me. It takes a special kind of idiot to stand there and get clobbered by you." She started to laugh again, but realized that she'd said something potentially dangerous. Casting a nervous glance at the blonde mechanic, she caught just a hint of sadness before Winry was able to put up her outer defenses.

"I think you're underestimating me," Winry said with a hint of the old maniacal gleam she used to get in her eyes. "The name Winry Rockbell is feared far and wide!"

"Ms. Rockbell?" A passing stranger turned and flagged them down. "Ms. Winry Rockbell?"

Winry blinked and glanced questioningly at her friend. Paninya shook her head, indicating that she had no idea who the man was either.

"Yes, I'm Winry," she said. "Are you in the market for automail?"

The young man snapped to attention. "Ms. Rockbell, I was sent to find you."

"Are you a soldier?" she asked. It was hard to tell in the dark and the rain, but the rigid formality was unmistakable.

"Yes ma'am," he replied. "My name's Sergeant Andrew Huff."

"And what business do you have with me, Sergeant?" Winry felt something settle in the pit of her stomach. A sense of foreboding trickled down her spine like a cold sweat.

"Captain Hawkeye is here looking for you."

"Captain..." It took a moment for the name to click in Winry's mind. "Riza?"

The young soldier seemed a bit surprised that she would refer to the 'captain' in such a casual manner. He quickly regained his composure. "Yes ma'am. Captain Riza Hawkeye is waiting for you at your house."

A voice in Winry's head told her to keep her mouth shut and walk away. But she had to know for certain. She had to know what had happened.

"What does Riza want?"

"It's about the Colonel, ma'am."

Winry let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Of course it would be about something else. "And what can I do for Colonel Mustang?"

The soldier looked confused. "Um, Brigadier General Mustang isn't directly involved in this as far as I know... It's the Colonel, ma'am. Colonel Edward Elric? The Fullmetal Alchemist?"

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She didn't realize that she was running until she turned the corner onto her street. The darkness and rain were forgotten and she'd left her umbrella lying on the ground at Paninya's feet.

Panting more from anxiety than exhaustion, she closed the distance to her apartment at a brisk walk, fighting waves of dread and apprehension the likes of which she couldn't remember ever experiencing before.

It had been almost five years since she'd heard from him. It was as though she had been cast off, cut out from his life and discarded like broken automail.

She'd tried everything in her power to contact him, even going so far as to travel to Central. He had never returned her calls or the letters that she'd taken up writing in secret. She had never wanted her friends in Rush Valley to see the full extent of the hurt that she had been feeling.

The doubt. The worry. The regret. And the one question that burned to be answered. Why hadn't he contacted her? She had started to suspect that he had been killed during all the fighting. There were very few other explanations. She wanted to believe that her contacts in the military would have let her know if that had been the case, but over the years, irrational fears had begun to override her better sense of judgment. Edward Elric wasn't exactly known for his sense of self-preservation.

Upon reaching her apartment, she came to a halt. A military van was parked on the curb. A spike of fear shot through her gut. The vehicle was big enough to hold a number of troops... or a coffin.

She hadn't given the Sergeant time to tell her anything, but there was no time for regrets. When no one exited the van to greet her, Winry turned toward the apartment complex that she called home. A lone figure stood on her doorstep. Swallowing what might have been a bit of bile in the back of her throat, Winry forced one foot in front of the other.

Riza Hawkeye hadn't changed much in five years. She heard Winry's approach and turned to greet her, her face a mask of seriousness.

Winry felt the rain dripping down and the wet lines where her hair had been plastered to her face. She realized that she must have looked a bit desperate, and maybe even a little crazy, but Riza Hawkeye paid her appearance no mind.

"Long time no see, Winry." Riza tried out a small smile. It didn't suit her.

"Riza..." Winry wasn't sure what to say. "Why...? Where's Ed?"

The female soldier dropped back behind her mask. "Can I come inside? We have a lot to talk about, and this rain isn't going to do either of us any good."

Leave it to Riza to be practical at a time like this, Winry thought to herself with just a touch of bitterness. The woman had a habit of taking control of a situation. But after five years of neglect, Winry felt she had a right to know certain things.

"Is he alive?" she blurted out. It was the most important question. As long as he was alive, he'd be able to persevere. That was one of the things that she admired most about him.

The lines around Riza's eyes hardened. The older woman locked her gaze with the younger, seeming to bore straight through. After a moment of stubborn hesitation, Riza nodded.

Winry knew there was something the older woman wasn't saying, but for one blissful moment, it was enough for her to know that Edward was alive. And then the moment passed and the cold rain began to send a chill deep into her bones.

There were still so many questions. "Where is he now?"

Riza stiffened. "Can we please just go inside and talk?"

"Where... is... he?" Winry emphasized each word, clenching her fists in frustration and anger.

It looked as though the military officer was going to hold out on her, but after a heated moment of silence, Riza's gaze shifted beyond Winry, back to the van. Winry spun on her heels before she was even aware of the movement, but a firm yet gentle hand on her shoulder stopped her from rushing off to the vehicle.

"Please." Riza's voice held an uncharacteristic quiver to it. "Let's just go inside."

Winry felt a fresh wave of moisture pass down over her cheeks, only dimly aware of the fact that she had started crying. "If Ed's staying out here, then I'm staying out here." She took a step toward the van. Riza didn't try to stop her.

It was probably only twenty paces to the street, but it seemed to take a lifetime to walk it. Childhood memories floated in her mind's eye, countless days of happiness and sadness. Each memory held the faces of her loved ones. Two young boys, smiling and laughing... Two young boys weeping at their mother's grave... A night of untold horror and shock... Two young boys pushed beyond the brink of despair by physical and emotional trauma.

Hadn't they suffered enough?

Winry could barely see through the tears and the rain. She didn't even notice that Riza had accompanied her.

"He should be sleeping," Riza said softly. Winry gripped the door handle with a shaking hand and pulled, sliding it open.

The air inside smelled of antiseptic and medical gauze, the sterile sort of smell that you only find in hospitals. It took her eyes a moment to adjust before she could make out the military stretcher, and the motionless form it carried.

Winry stifled a sob and crawled into the van.

He was so silent, lying perfectly still. He didn't even seem to be breathing.

She reached out an unsteady hand and gently brushed a few wayward strands of hair away from his closed eyes. He didn't stir, but it was enough for Winry to feel the warmth radiating from his skin, to feel the slight movement of the air as he breathed in and out.

It was enough for her to know that he was there, finally, with her. She slid her hand under the light blanket, finding his hand and sliding her fingers into his. His grip remained lax, but she gave him a reassuring squeeze anyway.

Riza allowed her to stay like that for a few minutes, standing in the rain like a silent guardian. "We should probably get him inside," she said, breaking the silence. "Do you have a spare bed?"

Winry shook her head, but was unwilling to shift her focus back to the officer. "It doesn't matter. We'll put him in mine."

"Alright," Riza replied. "Give me your keys. I'll go unlock the door."

Winry followed the order numbly, handing over her apartment keys as reality slowly sank back into focus around her. There was something missing.

Riza turned to go, unwilling to stand and watch the painful scene any longer.

"Wait."

Riza stopped and faced back toward the young mechanic. "Yes?"

"Riza... Where's Al?"

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**(A/N2): **Sorry for the cliffhanger! Oh wait, no I'm not. Tune in next week for chapter 3! You can keep an eye on my progress in my bio!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes (9-27-06): **Soooo, either the review system got a bit messed up last week, or nobody wants to leave reviews anymore. Either way, here's your chance to let me know what you think of this fic!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA and I'm not making money off this.

**Spoiler Warning (Low):** Nothing new!

**Special Thanks: **To Elin1 and my sis for beta reading.

**Chapter 3 **

Riza seemed to deflate. All her outward strength crumbled inward. "You were supposed to let me explain things first..." She seemed numb. "You could have just let me into your apartment. We could have talked and I could have made this easier on you."

Winry's tears were streaming down her face, but when she spoke, her voice was surprisingly steady. "Al is... dead?" It couldn't be true. She felt something in her mind shutting down, blocking out the pain before it was able to overload her senses.

Riza shook her head, and for the first time, Winry realized that the water trailing down the other woman's cheeks wasn't only from the rain. Not trusting her own voice, Riza climbed inside the van, kneeling beside Edward's prone form. She pulled the blanket back slowly, not wanting to wake the injured man. Winry couldn't help but take stock of the situation. It was the same morbid feeling you get when walking by a major accident: Your eyes can't look away, even if what you see will haunt you for the rest of your days.

She was surprised again, but for the first time that night it wasn't all bad. It was hard to make out details in the dark, but he seemed to be intact. The automail fitted in the place of his missing right arm wasn't of her design, but after five years that hardly came as a shock. It looked to be some of the latest military issue automail, and Winry had to ignore the conflicting emotions that surged to the front of her mind.

There were more pressing matters. Did it really matter that Ed had been getting automail from another mechanic?

Riza continued to pull the blanket down, revealing his torso. The smell of antiseptic grew stronger.

"He was actually fairly lucky... All things considered," Riza spoke softly as she tucked the blanket around the sleeping man's hips. Reaching carefully for the strings of his hospital gown, she pulled back the covering, revealing his chest. His abdomen was wrapped tightly with pristine white bandages. On the left side, midway between the jutting bone of his hip and his lowest rib, a light red blotch marred the perfection.

"The bullet passed clean through," Riza said quietly. For a moment the only sound was the rain pattering against the roof of the van. "He shouldn't even be bleeding anymore... I think some of his stitches might have come undone during transport."

Winry nodded numbly. "Is that it?"

Riza took a moment to reply. "No." She lifted the blanket once again, pulling it to one side to reveal Ed's left leg. The first thing Winry noticed, and chided herself for not noticing earlier, was the absence of automail. What remained of his leg was bandaged and heavily braced.

"The second bullet struck bone," Riza supplied, sounding tired. "There were some... complications."

Even though she knew that she would need to hear all the details, when being faced with them, a part of Winry wanted nothing more than for Riza to stop talking. She squeezed Ed's hand again and was rewarded when she felt his fingers twitch slightly in her grasp. She took comfort from that barest hint of movement.

Riza had, in fact, fallen silent. She had been around war and the shock of it all long enough to know what to say and when to stop.

"And Al?" Winry asked once more. She felt as though she was ready for anything.

Riza lifted the blanket from Edward's automail hand. Even in sleep, he was grasping something tightly with his mechanical limb. Riza worked to pry his fingers off the object, and for a moment Winry wondered if she'd be able to loosen his artificially enhanced grip.

She finally pried it loose, revealing a small wooden box about the size of the palm of a man's hand. Winry felt a sense of disconnection, as though her mind and body belonged to two different people. Some part of her brain had already formed a conclusion, already knew what was going on. But her conscious thoughts were unable to process and unable to theorize.

Riza lifted a small latch and opened the box.

A circular piece of metal rested inside. Winry knew what it was before she saw it. Even in the dark, she felt she could make out a familiar circular pattern, as thick as a child's finger, written in blood.

"Hey Al..." Winry said, hearing the tears in her own voice. She wanted to be strong, but there would be time for that later.

"Winry..." The voice was soft but unmistakable. "We're back."

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It was hard to say how long she sat there in the van, holding the small wooden box pressed up against her chest, crying her heart out.

Riza had gone to unlock the apartment and hadn't returned. Winry knew that the older woman was trying to spare her her dignity, but all thoughts of that kind were thrown to the wind. She didn't care how she looked. After five years of bottling her emotions, the floodgates had been raised.

Alphonse, for his part, took it all in stride. There wasn't much he could do anymore, beside accept things as they happened.

"Winry..." His youthful voice hadn't changed. She didn't know if she found it comforting or disconcerting.

"Oh Al... I've been waiting..." Winry said through a fresh wave of sobs. "Always waiting."

"I'm sorry... Winry..." If Al could cry, she knew that he would have been. It was painful enough to hear the heavy sadness in his young voice.

She clutched him tighter, feeling an ebb in her own tears. It was time to focus… time to focus on helping them instead of feeling sorry for them or herself.

"Shhhhh..." she said, swaying slightly as though she was trying to comfort a small child. She was slowly reining in her own emotions. "You didn't do anything wrong." She choked back another sob. "There's nothing to be sorry for."

Alphonse sounded truly pitiful as he replied. "Oh Winry. You don't know... What I... It's all, everything... it's my fault."

"Shhh... Al... don't talk like that," she cried, the emotional rollercoaster was threatening to derail at any moment.

"It's the truth," he said. In all the years she'd known him, she had only once heard him sound so bitter. "In fact, go right back to the beginning."

"No Al... it wasn't..." she pulled him away from her chest so she could look at him.

"If I hadn't been so weak..."

"Al... no..." She tried to interrupt him, but he kept plunging on ahead, heedless of her words.

"If I hadn't lost my body..."

"Al... you couldn't..."

"Nothing..."

"Al..."

"None of this..."

"Oh Al..." The tears were flowing again. Winry wondered if they would ever truly stop.

"I let my brother down, Winry! I failed him... and now... now he won't ever..."

Whatever Alphonse had been about to say was cut short. A flash of movement and the next thing Winry knew, the wooden box containing Al's blood seal was snatched from her hand and propelled across the van with enough force to crack the back window.

"Ah fuck..." A voice… deeper than she remembered, yet unmistakable... A voice belonging to a man, and not the fifteen year old boy she had once known, the fifteen year old boy she had once loved...

Winry looked on in shock as Ed settled himself back down on his pillow, eyes covered with his automail hand and teeth clenched in pain and rage.

"Fuck..."

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And then Riza was there, gun drawn and ready for action. It took Winry a moment to figure out that the sound of breaking glass had put the soldier on alert.

"Is everything alright?" Riza asked.

Winry couldn't begin to describe how inappropriate that question actually was. Before she could say anything, Edward exhaled, chuckling to himself. It was the most self-disparaging, bitter sound that she'd ever heard her childhood friend make.

Winry bit her lip to keep from crying and shuffled forward on her knees, searching the dark floor of the van until she found the palm sized wooden box that housed the remains of Al's armored body. "You ok, Al?" she asked softly.

Silence greeted her question.

"Al?" Winry didn't like the sense of fear that seemed to be looming about her. "Al?"

"Ya..." he finally answered. He sounded so forlorn, so utterly subdued. Winry couldn't stand it.

Without thinking, she hauled herself back to Edward's stretcher and grabbed a bundle of his hospital shirt in her fist, hoisting him six inches off his pillow. He dropped his automail arm away from his face and for a moment, their eyes locked. Winry refused to let the look of hollow shock and innocent surprise in his eyes fool her. She set Al down on the side of the stretcher just long enough to unleash an openhanded slap that would have made Izumi Curtis proud.

"That's no way to treat your little brother!" Righteous fury fueled her words. "And what the hell do you think you're doing? Lying here pretending to be asleep! I haven't seen you guys for five years and you can't even spare me a 'hello, Winry' or a 'nice to see you, Winry'? Is that any way to treat your oldest and dearest childhood friend?"

Ed blinked in shock, and for a moment Winry could see the fifteen year old boy looking back at her. He held a hand up to his cheek, looking guilty. "Uh... Hi Winry. It's nice to see..." She dropped him back before he could finish. He grunted, "...you."

"Hmph." Was the only reply she felt inclined to give.

"Ow," he said, plastering one of his all too familiar grimaces in place.

The events of the night had left her spent. Utterly devoid of energy, she slid to the floor, leaning her back against his stretcher. "You really are an idiot... you know that right?"

She felt the warm weight of his hand on her head. "Ya..." He gently rubbed his thumb against her hair. "I know."

Reaching up, she slid his hand off her head, nestling his forearm against her shoulder instead. She laced her fingers with his, resting her head against their hands. Clutching Al against her chest, she let out a sigh of bittersweet contentment. "Welcome home, boys."

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**(A/N2): **By the way, I've written up to chapter 19 of this. I may be writing for myself, but I'm posting for YOU. I'll try to keep updating every week, but that really depends on how excited you guys make me for some feedback. I'm also looking for some really good FMA fics to read, so any suggestions would be welcome (I even take shameless plugs for your own works)!


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes (10-05-06): **Thanks for the advice about good fics! Keep 'em coming! When I get more time I'll check 'em out.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA and I'm not making money off this.

**Spoiler Warning (Low):** Nothing new!

**Chapter 4 **

"And that's why it had to be you," Riza commented later over a cup of coffee. "Brigidier General Mustang was right. You're probably the only person alive who can get through to him."

Winry glanced back toward her bedroom where Ed and Al were supposed to be resting. It had taken them a few minutes to get Ed's stretcher into her tiny apartment and to transfer him to her bed. The effort had exhausted them all, but it had been the hardest on Ed. He hadn't made a move to help or spoken another word. He had simply allowed himself to be carted like a piece of luggage. Winry didn't like it. She didn't like how pale his complexion had become or the dark shadows under his eyes.

He was twenty years old, but somehow he seemed much older.

Riza followed her gaze. "He's been like that since getting transferred to Central Hospital a month ago. If he's not being bitter or detached, he's lashing out at everyone around him. You've already provoked more of a positive response out of him than any of us have seen since he got shot."

"I slapped him..." Winry rested her forehead in her hand, propping herself up on the table. It had felt like the right thing to do at the time, but she knew she should have put more thought into her actions. She didn't want to hurt him.

"I think he needed it," Riza said cautiously. "He's a man now... He's respected and feared... you're the only one left who can get away with treating him like a child."

Winry stirred her coffee absent-mindedly. "I know it's been five years... But I kind of forgot that we'd both grow up."

"Deep down, he really hasn't changed much..." Riza lifted her own cup, sipping the warm caffeinated beverage. "The problem is that he won't let anyone inside. He's pushing away everyone who tries to help."

"That's Ed," Winry said sadly.

Riza gave her a regretful look. "None of this should have happened. Brigadier General Mustang has done everything in his powers to keep the two brothers safe. He tried to maneuver things to keep them out of the conflict... But in the end there was nothing he could do to stop the inevitable."

"Inevitable or not... I still can't believe they went to war..."

"They had their reasons," Riza stated. "He might have been young, but Edward knew what he was signing on for when he became a dog of the military."

Winry smiled humorlessly. "He intended to use you and lose you..."

Riza wasn't offended by the gentle accusation. "We honestly hoped that the two of them would regain what they'd lost before the war was officially declared. When the Fuhrer mobilized the State Alchemists, we ran out of options."

Winry couldn't shake the image of Al's blood seal, the tiny piece of metal was the only tangible evidence that he was still connected with the world. "And Al followed him... Those two have always been inseparable."

"Alphonse kept him sane. The connection between those two goes beyond the normal bonds of brotherhood." Riza paused, giving Winry a close approximation to an understanding smile. "But you already knew that."

Winry nodded. "They'd die for each other in a heartbeat…"

The lines in Riza's face hardened and she looked down at her coffee. "And now they've killed for each other…"

The words hurt, but Winry wasn't surprised to hear them.

"It is a serious thing… the taking of a life." Riza didn't shift her gaze, but Winry knew that her attention had settled on the gun at her side. The air felt heavy.

"I hate war," Winry said, summing up her entire opinion on the matter. "Ed and Al hate it too."

"For the longest time, Edward refused to kill." Winry could tell that Riza thought her words would be of some comfort. She remained silent as the female officer continued, "He was convinced that with his powers as an Alchemist, he could bring an end to the fighting without casualties." She had a faraway look in her eyes.

"That's Ed…" Winry wanted to cry, but no tears would come.

Riza came back to the present. "War is about death. You enter the battlefield to kill or be killed. It didn't take long before a situation arose that couldn't be overcome without taking lives." She grew quiet, thoughtful. "It never gets easy. But for Edward... it was as though each life he took cut deeper..."

A long moment of silence was interrupted as Winry's clock struck eleven. It was getting late.

The sound seemed to break Riza out of a reverie. She shook her head once, as if to clear away unpleasant thoughts. "I think that's enough talking for one night." She got to her feet. "Words cannot express how sorry we all feel for what has happened. I'm so sorry that we have to place this burden on you..."

Winry frowned, "Burden?"

"It's the military's fault for what has become of those brothers... And we can't even lift a finger to do anything about it."

"It's no burden..." Winry corrected the older woman. "It's life. Things happen. What good is a family if you can't even fall back on them for a little support?" She took Riza's hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. "I'll see them through this. I promise."

Riza's eyes glistened and she nodded once before turning toward the door. "I'll return in the morning. There's still a lot more that you need to know."

"Good night, Riza."

The older woman paused. "Good night, Winry." And then she was out the door, disappearing into the dark and the rain.

------------

"Are you asleep?" Winry closed the bedroom door behind her.

"No."

"Do you need anything?"

"...no…"

She sat down on her stool, scooting it over beside her bed. Unsure of what to say next, Winry fell into silence. There was so much she wanted to ask… so much she wanted to tell him... Instead, she reached out, taking his hand in hers.

His automail was warm to the touch. Winry always loved how a mechanical limb, once attached to the body, absorbed the warmth of a person and took on a life of its own. It really was a thing of beauty.

She traced her fingers against the back plate of his hand. The design was a bit too simple, a bit too crude for her liking. She bent each of his fingers, checking the articulation. The range was there, but the performance left something to be desired and the joints on his index and ring finger needed to be cleaned and oiled.

She worked her way up to his wrist, bending his hand back and then forward. She twisted it to the sides and rotated it, making little unhappy noises when the automail didn't live up to her expectations.

Ed sighed, "Winry..."

"Shush," she chided him and continued her inspection. The further she went, the more irritated she became. "Ok, that's it." She flicked on her bedside lamp.

He squinted against the sudden blast of light. "What are you doing?"

She lifted his arm off the bed so she could get a closer look and was immediately horrified by the sheer deadweight. She glared accusingly at him. "What's the weight classification on this? Is this a Rank 2.5? Or a 3 even?"

He shifted away from her, trying to take his arm out of her viselike grip. "Uh, I'm not sure."

"You're not sure?" Winry tried to keep her irritation out of her voice. It wasn't Ed's fault that he never paid attention to details about his automail. "You're lugging this thing around and you never even bothered to find out how heavy it is?" When he refused to answer, she crawled onto the bed. "Sit up," she commanded. He looked at her like she was crazy. "Sit. Up," she repeated threateningly.

"Um, Winry..." Al spoke from his place on the nightstand. "I don't think that's such a good idea..."

"Hush up, Al. This is for his own good."

"I..." Ed began, and from the tone of his voice she knew that he was just going to say something painfully rational like: "Gee Winry, I'm sorry. I can't sit up because I've got a bullet hole in my gut."

She didn't want to hear it so she opted instead for action. She slid one hand under his back and placed the other on his flesh and blood shoulder. She balanced herself on one knee, using the other leg for support as she hoisted him upright without a word of warning.

Winry tried not to feel guilty when he cried out, but that would have been impossible. She slid her leg behind him, allowing him to sink back against it. Keeping one hand on his shoulder, she reached down and lifted his hospital shirt, placing her hand against the bandages on his lower back.

"What..." he began, teeth gritted against the pain and shaking with the effort of remaining in a sitting position.

"Don't talk," she commanded gently. She sent a probing hand up his spine and then inspected the muscle tissue to the right and the left, carefully avoiding the exit wound. Ed exhaled sharply through his nose when she got a bit too close to his tender injury and Winry quickly moved on, tracing her fingers over muscles hardened and defined by years of intense training and countless battles. She didn't want to admit it, but five years of active military duty had done some nice things to his body.

Pushing thoughts of that nature aside, she focused on the matter at hand. She felt the muscles around his artificial limb, finishing off by checking his shoulder and neck. What she found was not surprising, but that didn't make it any easier to bear.

"Did you know that the spine is made up of small bones which are separated by disks?"

Ed was in too much pain to do anything but glare at her, so Al answered for him. "Everyone knows that, Winry."

"Well, what you two apparently never bothered to learn is that the spine can be permanently compressed when forced to bear additional weight." She gave her friend a very serious look.

He glowered and thrust his jaw forward stubbornly. A trickle of sweat trailed down from his forehead, his face slowly becoming flushed from exertion.

"So, obviously it doesn't bother you that you've reduced your own height and signed yourself on for a lifetime of back aches…" She was mad at him, but couldn't quite grasp the full scope of her own anger. "Hey, while you're at it, you might as well keep yourself from healing, too!"

"What do you mean, Winry?" Al asked.

"Guess which muscles in his body support most of this deadweight?" She waved his automail arm back and forth. Ed was helpless in her grasp.

"I'd say it would be the muscles on his lower right side," Al ventured his guess.

Ed didn't like being the subject of discussion. She returned his glare, matching his intensity. "Wrong." She pointing roughly at his left side, causing him to flinch involuntarily. Her finger hovered an inch from the bullet wound. "You've been putting unnecessary strain on your injury…" She didn't have to wait long before he dropped his gaze, looking guilty as charged.

"The doctors didn't say anything about that…" Al said, sounding impressed.

Winry felt her calm returning. She knew what needed to be done. "Well, those doctors were idiots." She gave Al a quick smile before turning back to his brother. "I'm sorry, Ed." She put her hand on his plated shoulder as though to comfort him. Her fingers found the hidden docking mechanism with the practiced ease of a professional automail mechanic.

Ed realized what she was doing. "Hey..." he gasped, placing his left hand on her forearm, but lacking the strength to stop her. "Wait…!"

She wouldn't. The damage might have been done, but there was no reason to allow it to continue. With a click and a hiss, the mechanical joints separated. Ed cried out in surprise as the nerve connection was severed, grasping for the limb as Winry pulled it away. "That's better," she said, feeling triumphant.

Ed opened his mouth and closed it, then opened it again like a fish out of water. He clutched his hand against the empty socket and then turned his wide-eyed stare to Winry. "You didn't…"

Al groaned, "She did."

Winry placed the scrap metal on the nightstand beside Al and then turned back to Ed, gently lowering him to the bed. "You'll thank me later," she promised him.

"For ripping my arm off?" He was furious, but somehow it made her want to laugh.

"Bro…" Al was right there with her, torn between laughter and tears.

Ed glared at his brother before turning his rage back to Winry. "We haven't seen each other for five years and this is how you treat me? Slapping me, manhandling me, ripping me limb from limb!"

"Just like old times," she laughed and ruffled his hair. Her palm brushed his forehead and she had to battle another flash of guilt. "Eww, you're burning up…"

Ed gave her the kind of look that would have earned him a wrench to the head if the circumstances had been different. "And who do you think I have to thank for that?"

"Ok, I hear you," she got to her feet. "Now shut up and relax while I go get a cold compress and some water."

Ed looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he snapped his mouth shut and fumed silently.

"Winry, can I come with you?" Al asked quickly.

Ed's jaw dropped and he threw an accusatory look at his little brother. "You're gonna abandon me at a time like this?"

Al laughed nervously, "If that might save my own hide? Yes."

"Traitor!"

Ed had scooted halfway across the bed and was about to reach across with his left hand to grab him when Winry casually swooped in to the rescue. "That was a close one, Al. Good thing I removed his right arm already."

Ed growled, but Winry suspected that he wasn't nearly as mad as he sounded. "You know, I think I'm bleeding again. Thanks for the abuse."

"Don't mention it," she smiled. "Your brother and I will be back in a few minutes. Think you can behave yourself while we're gone?"

The look on his face was answer enough. She tried not to laugh as she left him stranded and helpless.

------------

**(A/N2): **I had to rewrite most of this chapter. Didn't really take much time in editing and nobody beta-ed it. Oh well! Sorry for the wait and hopefully I'll be able to get around to rewriting/editing chapter 5 next week!


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes (10-15-06): **Took me a while to get around to editing this one. I had to rewrite most of it to fit with the changes in chapter 4 (and I wanted to try and improve it, all around). It's also Very hard to feel motivated when people don't even bother reviewing. Oh well, it seems to be a general trend in FMA ficdom: Lots of fics, lots of readers, few reviews... :(

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA and I'm not making money off this.

**Spoiler Warning (Mod):** I'm using something from the late 50s chapters of the manga. It's not a big deal if you haven't read that far, though.

**Chapter 5**

"Winry, you're amazing."

She smiled at the compliment. "Thanks Al, you're not so bad yourself."

He laughed softly. "Seriously though, I can't believe how well you're taking things. I was scared to see you again... after everything that's happened."

"Scared?" She was surprised to hear it.

"Sure," Al said as Winry entered the bathroom, turning on the light. She placed him on the counter and set about finding a few clean washcloths and a small tub to fill with water. He continued while she worked, "I was worried you wouldn't be happy to see us. Things aren't like they used to be..."

"A lot can change in five years," she started. "But there are some things that never will. You two will always have a place with me."

"Thanks..." There was a slight quiver to his voice. "I've missed you so much, Winry." He still sounded like the ten year old boy from her childhood. She had to remind herself that he was almost twenty. "Ed has too... more than he'll ever probably admit."

Winry felt a familiar burning sensation in the corners of her eyes. She turned away, busying herself with filling the washtub. "I don't really understand... I've missed you two so much. And you're telling me that you missed me too... and I know it's true... But I can't understand why you've been away for so long."

"I know..." His voice was full of pain and regret.

Winry blinked, fighting back her tears. "If you two hadn't gotten seriously injured, you wouldn't be here with me right now..." It wasn't a question. She bit her lip and stared down at the washtub, watching as the water overflowed and poured over the sides. She couldn't bring herself to stop it. "It hurts, Al."

"I'm sorry Winry... I'm so sorry... Things are complicated, but we have no excuses."

"I just need to hear the reason." She turned off the faucet. "I think I deserve that much."

"Believe me, I want to tell you everything," Al said. "But if Ed finds out..."

"I'm not worried about Ed," she mumbled.

She had more to say, but Al interrupted. "I am."

Two tears escaped, trickling down her face. She leaned forward, gripping the edge of the sink to help her stay on her feet. It would have been easy to collapse and surrender to the sobs that had caught in her chest.

"He's fallen apart, Winry... He's been driving himself into the ground for the past five years, pushing himself further and harder than any person should. I was right there at his side, but I couldn't do anything to help him..."

Her breath hitched. "Oh Al..."

"And now I'm completely useless." There was a bitter overtone to his resignation. "I think we're done. I think it's finally over."

"What?" Winry wiped her tears away and turned back to face him. "Al, you can't talk like that. How could you even think about giving up?"

"It's not me," he corrected.

"Ed..."

"He's changed. I don't want to push him anymore..." He grew quiet, his voice no more than a whisper. "I can't sit here waiting for him to fix everything."

"He'll save you, Al," Winry promised. "He won't stop until he has. You know him as well as I do. Better even..."

It took Al a moment to respond. "After everything he's been through, he deserves a little peace." He fell silent. "Ed needs some quiet in his life."

"Al...?"

"And more than anything Winry... He needs You."

Al had chosen his words purposefully. They left her speechless, sniffing back her tears as she blinked and stared at her own reflection in the mirror. "I need to know everything that's happened, Al. You can't hold out on me."

"I know."

"If your brother won't talk, you're going to have to."

"He won't."

"Then he can't hold it against you for answering a few of my questions." She gathered up the washcloths and dried the edges and bottom of the washtub. "Let me take care of him, and then you and I are going to sit down and have a talk."

"It's already late. Wouldn't you rather wait 'til morning?"

Al was looking out for both of them. She smiled through her tears, "You think I can sleep at a time like this?"

--------

"Took you long enough," Ed said, glaring. He'd thrown the sheets off the bed, apparently too hot and angry to deal with them.

She could smell him, oil and sweat and blood. "I'm glad you waited patiently," she said wryly, sparing the twisted sheets a look. "If you catch a cold you'll be in serious trouble."

"Like I care."

She could tell he really didn't. "Well, too bad for you, I do." She placed Al and her supplies on the nightstand and gathered up the bed sheets. He was going to try to push her away, but she was ready for it.

"So what the hell were you two talking about?"

She shook off the sheets, straightening them, and spread them over his prone form. "Paranoia, Ed? That's a new look for you."

Anger flashed across his face and he tried to stop her from tucking in his covers. "I'm hot! Dammit!" He caught her hand and squeezed it.

"It's called a fever," she said calmly, finishing up the job she started with her free hand. His grip was tight, but he didn't have the strength or will to hurt her.

"Don't patronize me," he warned, nostrils flaring. His breathing had grown ragged. She sat down on the stool, meeting his gaze as she twisted her hand in his grasp, gently freeing herself. He glared defiantly as she took his hand in her own. A few minutes passed in stubborn silence. His angry energy finally dissipated, his breathing returning to normal as he relaxed back against the pillows.

She smiled at him, and the color that rose to his face wasn't just from his fever. "What?" he asked, irritated and embarrassed.

"Nothing," she replied elusively and gave him another smile before dousing a single cloth in the washtub. She tucked his bangs out of the way, placing the cool compress on his forehead. Winry watched as an internal struggle played out across his face. He was torn, completely unsure how to behave under her care. That alone told her all she needed to know about where he was at, emotionally.

He was messed up inside, but he was still Ed.

"You should try to get some rest," she suggested.

"I'm not sleepy," he replied, curtly.

"Ed." She gave him a look. "If you were on your feet, you'd be dead on them."

He clenched his jaw, looking pained, and Winry wondered for a moment what she had said wrong. And then it occurred to her. Injured and without his automail, he was helpless, bedridden... It had been ten years since she'd seen him like that. There wasn't anything she could say to make it better, and so they slid into a not quite comfortable silence. He fought his own exhaustion while she fought his fever, keeping the cloth cool and periodically checking his temperature with the back of her hand.

Twenty minutes passed and his temperature had come down, but he was still keeping himself awake. Removing the washcloth from his forehead, she sighed, "Would you cut it out?"

He looked away.

"You'll feel better after a good night's sleep."

He exhaled slowly and shook his head almost imperceptibly. There was something on his mind, but Winry could tell that he didn't want to talk about it. She brushed her fingers through his bangs and replaced the cool cloth. "I'm right here, Ed," she said softly. "Just go to sleep, ok?"

Her words seemed to do the trick. The last of his tension faded and his eyelids gradually grew heavy. She remained at his side, watching over him for another hour before he finally drifted off. Soon, the sound of his rhythmic breathing was causing her to seriously reconsider her earlier pledge to Al. She caught herself nodding off and jolted upright. Ed muttered something under his breath and then resumed his soft snoring.

"It's ok," Al whispered. "We can talk in the morning."

She checked Ed's temperature one last time, then lifted the small wooden box that housed Al's blood seal, and got to her feet. "You're not getting off that easily."

----------

"You actually got him to fall asleep..." Al was impressed again.

"That's what people do when they're tired," she joked lightly.

"Not Ed," Al said. "Not anymore."

Winry's shoulders slumped and she sat down, placing Al on the kitchen table. "I'm not going to like anything you have to say, am I?"

"I wish I had some good news for you, I really do," Al apologized.

"It's ok," she assured him. "That's not what I want to hear from you right now." She steadied her nerves. "Five years... I couldn't count the number of phone calls and trips I made to Central trying to reach you two. It seemed like I always just missed you... I know that you two were always on the go. But after a while, I started to feel like you were avoiding me on purpose."

Al was quiet for a long moment. "We were..."

Winry closed her eyes, placing her face in her hands. "Why...?" It had always been her greatest fear. "Please tell me there was a good reason, Al..." She dropped her hands away, giving him a pleading look.

"We were trying to protect you."

"Protect?" She couldn't contain her sudden flash of frustrated anger. "You think I'm some little girl who needs to be shielded from reality? We'd been through so much together, and you guys just decided that I couldn't handle it anymore?"

"No!" Al stated emphatically. "That's not it at all."

"Then what?" If he didn't have a good explanation, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to forgive them for cutting her out of their lives.

"It's the Fuhrer."

"King Bradley?" she asked incredulously. "What could he possibly have to do with this?"

"We found out something horrible, Winry. And he found out that we found out."

Winry shook her head. "I... don't understand."

"The ruling dictator of Amestris, Fuhrer King Bradley, is a homunculus."

"Oh." She felt lightheaded. "But wait... If you knew he was a homunculus... why didn't Ed get out of the military? You could have easily run away."

"No... We couldn't have."

"Because...?" And then it dawned on her. "Because of me..."

Al remained silent, confirming her suspicions.

"They threatened to do something... to me... if you tried to leave." It made a horrible sort of sense. Winry wondered why she'd never considered it before.

"We were naive," Al admitted. "We thought that we could convince Bradley that you weren't important enough to use as a hostage. Ed thought that if we avoided you, eventually the homunculi would stop targeting you and we'd be free to make our move when the time came."

"That's stupid," Winry said, once again on the verge of tears.

"We were young," Al explained with the voice of a child. "We thought we knew how the world works. But we had a lot to learn... When the war started and Ed was called in to fulfill his duties as a State Alchemist, or rather... as a Human Weapon... everything changed. We changed."

"You seem ok..." The words slipped before Winry remembered she was talking to a small disc of metal sitting in a wooden box. "I mean... besides the obvious."

"I went to war with him, Winry," Al sounded hesitant.

"I know... Riza told me."

"Then you know what that means."

Winry didn't really want to think about it. The Al that she knew would never hurt anyone. "Did you become a State Alchemist?" she asked quietly. It didn't change things, but she was still curious.

"I didn't have to. I was promoted to the rank of Captain without ever even enlisting in the military. The Fuhrer thought it was amusing to reward us for doing things we didn't want to do," Al said, sounding tired. "We got so caught up in the conflict, years passed before we knew it."

Winry knew the feeling.

"I used to tell Ed that it was pointless to continue avoiding you... that we were already too deeply involved in the war... that even though we hadn't contacted you, the homunculi still knew they could use you as a powerful weapon against us. I tried to make him see reason."

Her tears threatened to spill. "Then why...?"

"You don't know, Winry... the things we've done. I think Ed wanted to leave it that way."

She let her tears escape, crying silently. "What happened to you two? You can tell me..."

Her words died in her throat.

"AL!" It was Ed. And he was in pain. "AL!!"

Winry was already on her feet, Al in hand, when she heard something crash and then clatter to the floor in her bedroom. Throwing open the door, she was horrified to find Ed writhing on the ground in a puddle of puke and what appeared to be blood.

She rushed to his side, dropping Al to the wooden floor unceremoniously.

"Edward!" She rolled him over. "Ed!" Blood was seeping from a nasty gash on his chin, his shirt and bandages soaked with foul smelling yellow bile.

He grabbed his head, twisting back in pain. "NO!" he screamed and pushed violently away from her, reaching out for something that wasn't there.

Winry was terrified by his aggressive strength. "Ed, don't!" she begged. "It's ok, I'm here!" She tried to keep him from hurting himself any more than he had already done.

"STOP!" he yelled, sounding terrified. He lashed out, catching her in the face with his elbow. "AL!" he pleaded.

Winry didn't know what to do. She came back to his side and held on for dear life. "Ed, I'm trying to help you!"

"STOP!" he begged.

"Winry!" Al had been struggling to make his voice heard.

"Al, what's happening?" She was going to lose her hold on him. Ed fought like a caged animal. Even injured and without his automail, Winry knew she couldn't overpower him.

"He's having a flashback..."

"How do we stop it?"

"You can't."

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**(A/N2): **So, we've all heard the term "Equivalent Exchange", right? Or how about "Passage Fee"? I'm not asking an arm and a leg... but how about you take two seconds out of your time and leave a review? Thanks! 8D


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes (10-22-06): **Wow! I know I was begging for it, but you guys really know how to deliver! Thanks for all the awesome reviews! You make posting and writing worthwhile. At this rate, I might even update a little quicker! Keep the reviews coming. 8D

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA and I'm not making money off this.

**Spoiler Warning (Low):** Nothing new!

**Chapter 6: Flashback**

A muffled explosion shook the ground, causing bits of the dilapidated bunker to crumble. Sporadic gunfire echoed off in the distance. Edward glanced out around the cover, scanning the surrounding buildings.

"Lieutenant Colonel."

"I told you not to call me that..." Edward turned back, glaring at his subordinate.

"I'm sorry, Sir." The young Sergeant looked nervous. "We've received reports of heavy fighting along the western flank. They're calling for reinforcements."

"Who do we have to spare?"

"Nobody, Sir."

Edward set his mouth in grim determination, thinking fast. "Ok, we're moving out. Miller, Wright, you're on point." Ed barked the orders to two privates who immediately dropped down from their tactical positions on the bunker's wall. "Sergeant Huff." The eager man saluted smartly. "Relay our plans to command. Tell that bastard Mustang to send more troops."

Huff gave him the usual pained expression. "I'll put the request through to the Brigadier General, Sir."

"Make it quick, we're moving fast and light!" Edward turned back to his squad. Another muffled explosion rattled the foundation of their holdout. "Lieutenant Sheridan, I want you and your men to hold this position."

"Yes, Sir!" The officer shouted enthusiastically. "You can count on us!"

"The rest of you, with me!" Ed gave the signal and his men fell in line.

"What about the Captain, Sir?" Huff asked as he stowed the radio.

Ed glanced back toward the sound of fighting and smiled darkly**. "**He'll catch up on his own. Move out!"

---------

Major Abrams saluted. "Boy am I glad to see you, Sir."

Edward ducked inside the makeshift command post. "What's the situation?"

"It's ugly, Sir." The gruff soldier rolled out a map of the area on the dirt. "They're trying to break through the blockades on the perimeter of the city. We'd been forcing them down the main road here." He indicated the position on the map. "But we don't have enough men to stop their advance, and once they break through the blockades we're going to be completely overrun."

"Sounds like I got here just in time." Ed turned to go and almost collided with a communications officer.

"Tanks!" The officer was out of breath. "We've got reports of tanks approaching the main road. Major, we don't have the firepower to..." he trailed off, realizing who he'd almost plowed over.

"I like tanks," Ed smiled ruthlessly.

The officer grabbed his radio. "The Fullmetal Alchemist is here! Hold your positions, I repeat, hold your positions."

"We'll leave it to you then, Sir." Major Abrams saluted.

Without another word, Ed dashed out of the command post and jogged down the main road. Entrenched soldiers cheered as he passed, calling out encouragement that Ed never allowed himself to acknowledge. When he reached the entrance he stopped, gauging the distance and materials in the surrounding blockades. Three Drachma Empire tanks rattled menacingly toward them.

"Everybody stand clear," he ordered. After the last man reached a safe distance, Ed clapped his hands and dropped to one knee, pressing his hands against the ground. The man made blockades solidified and merged with nearby buildings, thickening as the ground rose up to add its considerable mass to the new defensive structures. "Ok men, dig in and stay out of sight. I'll take care of those tanks."

More cheering greeted his words. Ed followed his own orders, disappearing and allowing the tanks to close the distance. When the last tank rolled past his position, Ed stepped out from his cover, walking casually up behind the rear tank. Clapping, he placed one hand on the back of the tank. In a burst of alchemic energy, treads fused with wheels, the top hatch sealed shut, and the side mounted turrets twisted themselves into knots.

Moving on to the next tank in line, Ed clapped his hands and repeated the process. The men trapped inside shouted angrily and pounded on the hatch, trying to get free. Ed ignored them and was about to move on to the last tank when a large shape came barrelling toward him from out of nowhere. His brain didn't have time to catch up as the figure slammed into him, knocking him aside. He sprawled to the ground, hitting and rolling to his feet as the sound of gunfire erupted.

Someone inside the tank had shoved a handgun through one of the small viewing hatches. Their bullets ricocheted harmlessly off the large armored figure.

Alphonse clapped his hands together, slamming them against the tank. In an instant, the tank curled in on itself, imploding into a perfect ball of metal. Screams from the trapped men were cut brutally short. A severed hand holding the handgun dropped to the ground, blood pooling in the dirt. Clapping again, Al dropped to the ground. A stone fist ripped from the earth and slammed into the large sphere, propelling it into the rear tank with enough force to crumple it into scrap metal.

Ed could only watch as Al turned around, clapping a third time. The men in the front tank never knew what hit them.

From a moment, Al stood with his back to his brother, rays from the setting sun reflecting off the polished steel into Ed's eyes. When Al finally turned to face him, Ed had to fight the urge to drop his gaze. Al looked like he'd been wading in a blood bath. Crimson splashes covered his chest and arms, dripping down his legs.

For a heartbeat, they could only stare at one another. Then Al stepped forward and grabbed the front of Ed's jacket, lifting him partially off the ground and leaning in threateningly. "Every time. You leave yourself wide open every time."

Ed extricated himself from Al's hold, straightening his black jacket and infamous red cloak. "Well, it's a good thing I've always got you around to watch my back," he replied coolly.

"Ed... you left me on the other side of the battlefield." Al clenched his fists.

"I knew you'd catch up."

"What are you even doing over here? Didn't we have orders to secure that bunker?"

"It was secured."

"Because I was securing it!" Al said angrily. "You left me to do the dirty work and then I come back to find you and your men gone."

"There were more pressing matters."

Major Abrams and his squad came jogging down the main road and stopped a respectful distance from the two arguing brothers. Ed and Al ignored them.

"Brigadier General Mustang ordered us to pull out from here. There is no strategic advantage in continuing to hold this position."

"Screw Mustang," Ed growled. "Why should we take two steps forward and one step back? That's the kind of thinking that has prolonged this war. I'll finish it. Even if I have to finish it myself."

Al stood up straight and shook his head. "No."

Ed spun and started up the road, heading toward the Drachma line and the troops advancing in the distance. A single rifle shot rang out, the report echoing off the buildings.

Somebody yelled, "Sniper!" Abrams and his men had already hit the dirt.

Al slapped his hands, putting a wall of stone in front of Ed and rushing to his side. He turned to Major Abrams' team. "Medic!"

Ed clapped his hands and pressed them against Al's barrier, opening a long window so he could scan the field. The soldiers cautiously got to their feet, checking each other over for injuries.

"Major Abrams," Ed said, his voice level.

The man was on his feet and at his side in an instant. "Yes, Sir."

"I want you to lead the men out of here. Full withdrawal."

The officer looked confused. "What about you, Sir?"

Alphonse stepped toward them, hands shaking. "I called for a medic."

Two combat medics came forward with their first aid kits. "Captain Elric, who's injured?"

Edward continued, ignoring Al and the medics, "I'm going to cover your retreat, Major."

"No, you're not," Al interjected. "We're getting out of here. All of us."

"There's no time," Ed replied.

"This is no time for you to be giving orders," Al stated fiercely. "Ed, you've been shot!"

Major Abrams and the combat medics turned to Ed, shock and surprise readable on their faces. Something dripped against his left boot and their eyes dropped down, staring at the red liquid incomprehensibly.

"I know," Ed said calmly. "That's why everyone else is pulling out."

"You're in shock," Al argued. "You're not thinking clearly. Stop worrying about others and think about yourself!" Al turned to the combat medics. "Help him already!"

The two men jumped forward, finally coming to their senses. Ed stared at his brother as the combat medics searched him, quickly finding the entry and exit points of the bullet. They lifted his shirt carefully, peeling it away from the wound. "Sir, the bullet missed your vitals, but you're losing a lot of blood. We should evac you to the field hospital as soon as possible."

"Give me a standard field dressing," he ordered. "I need full mobility." The men set to work, cleaning the wound.

"Ed, no." The sight of streaming blood had subdued Al.

"Al, look," Ed said, pointing toward the field and the advancing enemy. "That's Drachma's Heavy Armored Cavalry. We can't outrun them on foot."

"What are you...?"

"I'm saying, we have to hold them. Right here." Ed clenched his teeth as the medics wrapped gauze around the thick bandages they'd placed against the front and back of his abdomen. They taped it off.

"How does that feel, Sir?"

"Great." He grinned through the pain. "Thanks. Now I want all of you to get out of here."

Major Abrams stepped forward. "Sir, I can't agree to this."

"That's why I'm giving you orders and not asking your permission." Ed grimaced. "If we try for a tactical withdrawal, the cavalry is going to overtake us and people are going to die needlessly. I won't be able to focus if I have to worry about keeping you all alive."

"But Sir," Abrams began.

"You have your orders, Major. Don't make me chase you out of here."

Major Abrams looked toward the oncoming Drachma troops, calculating the odds. They were closing the distance at an alarming rate. The man seemed to make up his mind and he turned back to Ed. "We'll be waiting for you at the bunker."

"Ok," Ed said.

Abrams placed a fatherly hand on Ed's shoulder. "Don't die."

"Wasn't planning on it," Ed grinned.

"You keep an eye on your brother now, alright?" He said to Alphonse. "We're counting on you, Captain."

Al nodded.

Abrams saluted and held it for a moment before turning around and barking orders. Men fell in line and in no time, Ed and Al were the only ones left. Ed waited until they were out of sight before he slumped back against Al's stone barrier and slid to the ground.

He clutched his automail arm to his side and winced. "Think it's too late for me to go with them?" he half-joked.

Al sighed and settled down beside his brother. "Are you really going to be able to do this?"

Ed waved away his concern. "I'll be fine. I'm no stranger to a bit of pain."

"That's not what I mean... Brother, we have to be serious. No more holding back."

Ed set his mouth in a thin line. "I know."

------------

**(A/N2): **Weeeee... So, I ended up having to break the flashback into 3 chapters! I may post them faster so you can get into the whole sequence without such a break between sections. That is, if you guys motivate me to do so. ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Notes (10-26-06): **Ok, you guys encouraged me! Keep it up and we'll see how fast I can get chapter 8 - the stunning conclusion of the flashback - posted.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA and I'm not making money off this. The ideas about Drachma are all my own original thoughts. Please let me know what you think!

**Spoiler Warning (Mod):** I forgot to mention last time that there were spoilers for the mid 30s chapters of the manga. Al can transmute just like Ed and Izumi, now. Yeah, go Al!

**Chapter 7: Flashback (Part 2)**

The ground had started rumbling. Al knelt and looked through the long window in their barrier. "They're getting close. The good thing about their heavy cavalry is that they won't have any guns."

"We'll take 'em at a distance until they close in then switch to melee," Ed said as he tried to push himself to his feet. He stopped and knocked on Al's forearm to get his attention. "Help me up, Al."

Al carefully pulled him to his feet, looking him over with as much concern as his cold steel exterior could show. "You ready, brother?"

Ed nodded and took a deep breath, trying not to wince. "Let's do this."

Without another word, they darted around opposite sides of the barrier in perfect unison and took ten running paces toward the perimeter of the city. The Drachma Heavy Cavalry looked like something out of a medieval fantasy story. Man and horse were covered from head to toe in a thick, bullet deflecting armor that Drachma was infamous for. The minute they spotted the Amestrian Alchemists, the proud knights spurred their mounts, charging forward fearlessly.

Clapping their hands in unison, Ed and Al dropped to their knees. Spikes the length of small trees blasted out of the ground directly in front of the charge. The collision was sickening. Unable to swerve out of the way or stop their forward momentum, the knights impaled themselves on the angled spears, bright red blood erupting from wounds the size of a clenched fist. Ed didn't allow himself to think as he and Al clapped again, preparing to unleash devastation.

The ground dropped out from under the second wave of knights. Horses screamed as their legs snapped, sending their riders toppling to the ground. Men were crushed under the weight of their armored mounts and the third wave of knights couldn't stop in time. They plowed through their comrades, killing many who had survived.

The bodies were piling up, but it wasn't enough. The third and forth wave of knights broke through, closing in fast. Al transmuted. Jutting rock launched ten knights into the air, tossing them like a child's toys. Ed made a low wall that stretched the width of the main street. Behind the wall, blocked from the view of the incoming knights, he'd transmuted a deadly trench filled with spikes.

Even weighed down by all their armor, the war horses made the jump easily. It was the landing that was their undoing. The cries of dying animals filled the air as the knights crawled out of the trench and got to their feet, shaken, but mostly unharmed.

"Melee," Ed said, clapping his hands and holding his right arm out over the ground. A spear formed, rising up into his waiting grasp. Al shadowed him, grabbing his own spear and falling into his close-quarters fighting stance.

The nearest armored warrior lunged. Ed spun out of the way and drove his spear into the man's side. Blood seeped from the slit in the armor and the knight went down to his knees. Ed used his foot to push the dying warrior off his spear, clearing it just in time to block another attack. He dropped to the ground, sweeping the knight's feet out from under him. The man toppled back and Ed slid his spear tip through the man's exposed neck.

Another sword-wielding warrior came at him, roaring in anger. Ed clapped his hands together and ducked under a broad horizontal attack. He came up inside the knight's defenses and placed his hands against the armored chest. The breastplate crumpled inward, impaling the wearer. Blood erupted from the man's helmet. Ed closed his eyes as the warm liquid splattering against his face.

The world around him was starting to lose its detail. Ed focused only on what was directly in front of him. When a knight came at him, he dodged, parried, deflected, and closed in for the kill. It was too easy. The heavy knights were far too slow. Their armor might have deflected bullets, but it didn't stand a chance against his alchemy and automail enhanced strength. Suffering from neither injury nor fatigue, Alphonse was decimating his foes.

The Elric Brothers were ruthlessly efficient, but no matter how many they killed, others came forward to take their place.

Ed left his spear lodged in another of his attackers, slapping his hands and transmuting his automail arm. He drove the familiar blade straight into the chest of his nearest opponent. The man gurgled and collapsed. Panting, Ed turned to find his next victim and was surprised to see nothing but corpses within striking distance. The knights were forming up, keeping outside their melee range and cutting off all avenues of escape.

They were outnumbered a hundred to one. Ed was about to transmute when a decorated knight, nearly a head taller than his companions, stepped forward from the throng.

"Fullmetal Demons!" The man roared in a heavy Drachman accent. "You think yourselves Gods?"

Taking advantage of the opportunity to catch his breath, Ed straightened up, wiping the blood from his face with the back of his sleeve. "We're just men."

"Then you have a death wish!" The warrior shouted back. "Fight me as a man, and I will satisfy it!"

Al growled and slapped his hands together but before he could use his alchemy, Ed put a restraining hand on his arm. "I accept!" He yelled.

A low murmur of approval rippled through the armored warriors.

Al slapped a hand to his forehead, the metal making a hollow sound. "Idiot."

The big knight stomped forward, drawing a sword that was almost as large as Ed. "I would rather fight your brother," The man said mockingly. "I can't feel proud of killing the smallest man on the battlefield."

Ed bit back his almost automatic retort. It had been a long time since someone had thrown a short joke at him. "Sorry to disappoint," he said, maintaining his composure, "but you wouldn't stand a chance against my brother." He rapped his knuckles against Al's armored chest.

The knight drove his sword into the ground with a laugh and discarded his helmet. "I like your spirit," he said, grinning broadly. "Let there be no lies between us." If not for the smile, Ed would have sworn he was staring at Seig Curtis. The big man had the same strong face and dark beard. "I am Lord Boric Zomski, Raid Captain of the Imperial Heavy Armored Cavalry."

Ed closed his mouth and fought a pang of grief. Izumi had been dead for almost two years...

Seeing that the man was waiting for some kind of introduction or proof of his identity, Ed slid out of his cloak and undid the clasp on his jacket collar. He stripped down to his tank top, revealing his automail arm. Lifting his pant leg, he showed his second automail limb. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist."

"And now we fight as men!" Boric grabbed his sword and roared as he came forward with speed that defied his size. Ed dropped back, barely avoiding being bisected by the massive blade. Before the man could regain his momentum for a second attack, Ed darted in and lashed out with his left leg, kicking hard enough to dent the heavy armor on Boric's side.

The big man took a step back and deflected Ed's hand blade as he tried to drive it home. Ed took the momentum and flipped back out of his range, expecting a counterattack from the giant sword.

Instead, Boric only stood there appraising him. "You fight well for a tiny man. Even without your alchemy."

Ed bared his teeth. "Compared to you, just about anyone would be tiny."

The large man turned back his head and laughed. "Yes, yes, you are right. But look." He pointed back to Alphonse. "Your brother managed to be proper sized."

Ed spared an irritated glance at his sibling. "Well, I never did like drinking milk..."

"Ed, watch it!" Al yelled.

Ed pulled up his arms to block, realizing that it was probably a futile attempt. But instead of attacking with his sword, Boric had opted for hand-to-hand. Ed caught the gauntleted punch with his metal forearm, the force of the blow rattling his molars.

"Never look away from your enemy," Lord Boric admonished him, his big sword resting on one shoulder.

Ed shoved the knight's arm to the side and pulled back to strike. "I'll keep that in mind!"

Boric sidestepped and brought his massive blade down, intersecting Ed's attack. Steel impacted with steel, the metal screeching as Ed felt something in his arm give way. He disengaged, rolling back away from the big man and holding his mechanical limb against his chest protectively.

Ed eyed Boric warily, keeping his left arm forward as he slid into his fighting stance.

"I'm not sure if I should recommend you to a doctor or a good blacksmith." Boric said with a broad smile, propping his sword back up on his armor plated shoulder. The move looked casual, but Ed had learned his lesson.

He didn't want to take his eyes off his opponent, but he needed to know how bad the damage was. He cursed softly and flexed his fingers, feeling hopeful when he heard the familiar mechanical sounds and metallic clinking.

Boric's grin widened and Ed glared, bringing his hand forward into his view. When he saw what had happened, he growled, "Piece of shit." The blade and back plate on his forearm were totally scrapped. The screws by his wrist had snapped, leaving the crumpled cover to flap uselessly against his arm. The dangling metal was going to hamper his fighting. Not to mention that he'd lost his weapon.

Ed thought fast. "Any chance of a quick time out?" He put on his most endearing grin.

Boric laughed, thoroughly amused. "I give you 30 seconds starting now. No alchemy."

Ed ran back to Alphonse, panting. "Rip this scrap off, will ya?" He offered up his arm.

There seemed to be a dark cloud hanging over his little brother. "I'm tempted to rip the whole thing off. What the hell do you think you're doing, exactly?"

"You expect me to back down from a challenge?" Ed asked, looking sour. He added quietly, "Besides, this guy has just as much right to live as we do."

Al grabbed a hold of his arm with one hand and grasped the scrap with the other. He pulled none too gently, snapping the remaining screws and separating the pieces of automail. He leaned in close so only his brother could hear. "You're getting pale. I can see the wet spots on your tank top. If it wasn't black they'd all have spotted it by now."

Ed gave Al a brotherly punch on the chest plate. "I'm just trying to buy you time to come up with a good plan."

"Time's up!" Boric bellowed cheerfully. The big man wasted no time in grabbing his sword and charging toward them.

Ed dashed off in the other direction, heading straight for his spear. He pulled it out of the corpse as he ran by then spun on his heels to face the incoming knight. Boric pulled back to strike, but in the heartbeat before he could bring the massive weapon to bear, Ed lunged forward with his spear. Boric's armor resisted for a fraction of a second before giving way and Ed drove it into his gut, cleaving flesh and muscle and organs until the spearhead slammed against the armor on Boric's back. Ed gritted his teeth and pushed, clearing through.

Boric smiled. His grip on his sword grew lax and the weapon hit the ground with a heavy thud. Blood trailed down the handle of Ed's spear, staining his single white glove. Ed clenched his jaw, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Boric said; his voice still proud and strong. "It is a good death. Even if you are so very small."

Ed met his gaze, giving him a pained smile. "I'm not small. I'm compact."

Boric laughed. The sound was no more than a deep rumbling in his chest. "Ah." He placed his hand on Ed's right shoulder. "My daughters would love a strong stubborn man like you."

His words hit Ed like a physical blow. Guilt and grief shot through him, the pain settling in his left side.

"Finish me," Boric commanded.

"No." Ed shook his head. "Lord Boric, call off your men. I'll let you all leave!"

"It is not our way. You must kill without mercy and die without regret."

"It's suicide!" Ed yelled. "You can't beat us. You're sending your men to their deaths! What about your homes? What about your families?"

Boric gripped Ed's plated shoulder tighter, his gauntlet scraping against the steel. "You must kill me, or I will try to kill you. That is the way of the warrior."

"Fuck that," Ed spat. "We're just men, remember?" He gave Boric a desperate look. "I've seen enough death to last a lifetime. Please."

Boric lowered his gaze and for a moment Ed thought the man would see reason. The next thing he knew, he was face down on the ground, all the air knocked from his lungs and a metallic taste in his mouth. His gunshot wound was searing agony, the pain of it like a living creature that had taken up residence in his body. He coughed blood, gasping for breath, and curled into a ball to try to relieve the pain that was threatening to take his consciousness.

"Ed! Brother!" Alphonse was at his side, his strong hands comforting. It gave Ed something to focus on besides the burning pain.

"Al..." Ed was surprised by the raw effort it took to form even one simple word. It felt like someone had shoved his throat through a meat grinder. He managed to turn his head, looking forward to where Boric knelt. The big man had collapsed to his knees, but he was still alive, watching him with resignation and pride.

"Exploiting an enemy's weakness... It is a most basic strategy," Boric explained.

A circular wall of stone separated the three of them from Boric's men. Ed realized that the heavy pounding noise in his ears was actually the sound of the knights trying to break through. But none of that mattered.

"You... hit me?" Ed gasped.

"I told you I would try to kill you," Boric stated simply. "There were no lies between us."

"But..." Ed didn't know what he meant to say.

"I have given my comrades hope," Boric said with his same broad smile. Blood escaped the corner of his lips and trickled down into his thick black beard. "It is a good death."

"You didn't have to die..." Ed pushed himself onto his hands and knees, his entire body shaking.

"Ed, don't move," Al pleaded. "You're bleeding through your bandages."

"We could have come to an agreement." Ed knelt, straightening as much as he could. "It didn't have to be this way." He could feel his life draining out onto the dirt road. He clutched his arm to his side, trying to staunch the flow.

"If we let you live," Boric said, sounding regretful for the first time. "You will continue to kill our friends and comrades. You will invade our country, kill our wives and our children, and burn down our cities."

Ed dug his fingers into the bloodied ground before him. "I'm not a monster!" He could hear the pleading tone in his own voice, the doubt and fear.

"You said you've seen enough death." Boric's gaze was losing its focus but his voice was still unwavering. "Then make yours the last, and end it."

"I... can't." Ed was terrified to hear a note of regret in his reply. He pulled his metal hand away from his wound, staring down at the blood. "There's things I have to do." He clenched his fist. "People are counting on me. Waiting for me..."

"Then you have... no choice," Boric said. "Kill or be killed. That is the only rule of the battlefield."

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**(A/N2): **And if you can believe it, things get even WORSE (or... better?) next chapter! Yay! Don't forget your passage fee! I'd hate to have to unleash a few hundred Drachman knights on you just to get a review... 8D


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Notes (11-06-06): **Sorry it took so long! I'm glad you all seem to be enjoying this and I really love reading all your comments! Keep 'em coming, I really appreciate it! And now for the stunning conclusion! It's a bit dark... Haha...

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA and I'm not making money off this.

**Spoiler Warning (Low):** Nothing new!

**Chapter 8: Flashback (Part 3)**

The knights were breaking through. Al's protective wall was starting to crack and crumble.

Ed didn't care.

"Kill or be killed?" Ed laughed weakly, his voice sounding hollow in his own ears. "Is that all there is anymore?"

Boric remained silent.

Al had gone to retrieve Ed's jacket and cloak. He came back to his older brother's side and knelt. "Save your strength," he advised. "I'm going to try to stop the bleeding."

"Al, what are we even doing here?" Ed looked at his brother. The empty suit of armor that housed his soul was stained with blood.

"Right now we're just trying to survive." Al carefully ripped Ed's jacket into one long strip. "It's not so different than what we usually do."

"But where do we draw the line?" Ed asked. "At what point does our ruthless need to keep living throw off some cosmic balance? Equivalent Exchange, Al. How can our lives compare to all the lives we've taken?"

Al ignored him, focusing instead on wrapping the emergency bandage around his abdomen. He had to pry Ed's metal arm away from the wound. His older brother wasn't paying attention.

"Al, answer me..." Ed half begged, half demanded.

Al muttered quietly to himself as he worked. "One is All, All is One." He finished the first aid and then draped Ed's red cloak over his shoulders gently. "We chose our path a long time ago. I'm not going to let you back out now."

"Our path?" Ed asked, feeling hopelessness lurking at the edge of his mind. "Was this the path we chose, Al? I can't remember..." He looked down at his blood stained hands. "Did we decide to become murderers?"

"No, Ed." Al placed both hands on his shoulders, squeezing them reassuringly. "This path was forced upon us. It's not our fault."

Ed searched the hard lines of his brother's steel face. "But didn't I become the State Alchemist? We knew that I could be called to fight at any time... I made that choice myself..." Despair was eating at his insides. "And I dragged you along to hell with me."

"You didn't declare this war, Ed!" Al's young voice was teeming with emotion. "You have to stop blaming yourself for things that are beyond your control. You can't keep taking all of this inside..." He squeezed Ed's shoulders tightly. "It's killing you, brother..."

"Al." Ed smiled helplessly. "I can't fight anymore..."

"I know." Al leaned in, wrapping his arms around his brother. "It's ok. You don't have to." He lifted Ed from the ground, cradling him as he had done so many years earlier. "I'm getting you out of here."

---------

Alphonse spun in a slow circle, trying to decide which direction to flee. The stone wall he had hastily erected around them was starting to crumble. As long as he was holding Ed, he would be unable to perform alchemy or fight.

There was no time to spare.

Choosing a direction at random, he rushed toward the wall. Something cracked and the stone seemed to shudder. A moment later, steel plated hands and arms were pushing through the rock and dirt. Al twisted, looking for another escape. Sections of the wall were being torn down on all sides. Al backed up until his foot bumped into something. Glancing behind, he realized he was against the stone barrier he had made to shield Ed from the sniper.

There was nowhere to run.

"Ed, I'm sorry. Hold on a little longer." He lowered his brother to the wall, propping him against it. Clapping his hands, he pulled a heavy-bladed spear from the raw earth. "I won't let them hurt you."

----------

Ed wasn't sure if he had passed out or simply passed from his own thoughts for a time. When he opened his eyes, he found his brother standing before him, protecting him as knights closed in on all sides.

Al drove his spear into a man's chest, the blood spraying as arteries were severed.

Ed felt something snap. He raised his hands to his head, pushing his fingers through his hair slowly. "Al." He wanted to look away but he couldn't.

Al twisted, swinging the spear in a wide arc that decapitated his next opponent. The lifeless body toppled to its knees before crumpling to the earth.

"Stop." Ed pulled at his roots.

Al either couldn't hear him or refused to listen. He drove a fist into the faceplate of an attacking knight and lashed out with a roundhouse kick that sent two other men flying back. He twirled the spear, building momentum as he brought it crashing against another warrior. The spear head passed through plate mail like a hot knife through butter.

"Stop," Ed pleaded.

Al lodged his spear in another warrior and clapped his hands. Before the man could collapse, Al transmuted his armor into a twisted mess of jagged spikes and blades. He hefted the corpse with the shaft of the spear and catapulted it back into its companions.

"Stop. Please."

Al transmuted again in the wake of the horror he'd wrought. He punched forward and the earth itself took up his attack. Stone fists and spikes blasted out in a devastating line, ripping through the knights and a remaining portion of the circular wall. Al clapped again, and more men died.

"Al. Stop." Ed didn't remember getting to his feet. His stomach was tied in knots, acidic bile creeping up the back of his throat.

Al clapped his hands but before he could transmute, Ed latched himself onto his arm, holding him back.

"AL!"

Taking the opening, one knight charged forward. Al blocked his attack with his free arm and then placed his hand against the man's armored chest. The man screamed as blood erupted from every opening in his plate mail.

"AL!!" Ed screamed, matching the dying man in intensity and terror. His stomach twisted and he dropped to his knees, retching. Rough armored hands grabbed him by his hair and tried to drag him away. Al stabbed his spear over Ed's head, impaling his attacker. Warm blood rained down on his face, getting into his mouth and eyes.

"NO!" Ed lunged forward, grasping on to Al's leg. "STOP!" Al tried to pry him off but Ed threw back his elbow, beating his hand away. "AL!"

"Ed! I'm trying to save you!" There was pain in his young voice. More pain than Ed had ever heard.

"STOP!" Ed begged. He clung to his brother. There was nothing else left.

Al clapped his hands and went to the ground. The knights were blasted back by waves of living earth. Al remained where he was. A shudder rippled through his armored body, his joints rattling

"Ed..."

Ed got up and wrapped himself around Al's arm to keep him from moving or fighting. "Al, stop."

Al shuddered again, turning his head slowly to look at his brother. "Ed, something's wrong." The lights in his eyes were fading, his voice becoming faint.

One last shudder passed over the armored body like a dying breath and then Al fell, a marionette whose strings had been cut. He hit the ground and his helmet rolled forward, landing at the foot of a knight who was slowly getting to his feet.

Ed stood there, the weight of his brother's arm nothing more than that of a hollow suit of armor. There was no strength in it... no life.

"Al...?"

The knight looked from the empty helmet to the empty suit of armor and recoiled. "Demons!" He shouted for the world to hear and drove his sword through the top of Al's head.

And then everything was swallowed by darkness and pain.

---------

Ed wasn't sure how long he'd been kneeling there with his hands buried up to his wrists in the dirt. He glanced up to find the world as he knew it, gone. The landscape had twisted into a hellish nightmare of stone thorns and spikes, the bodies of the knights suspended in the air, impaled and mutilated.

He puked.

And then he remembered.

"AL!" He got to his feet and spun, looking for any sign of his brother. Fortunately, the area behind him had been spared from the alchemic horror. He rushed to Al's side.

"Al, answer me!" He shook his shoulder frantically. The armor joint came undone and the hollow arm thudded to the ground. "AL!" He slammed his fists down on the empty chest. "AL! You can't!"

Ed ripped off his bandages, shredding his tank top in the process. "I won't let you leave me. AL!" He screamed and dug his cold metallic fingers into his wound. He roared with the pain and then used the fresh blood to draw sacrificial blood seals on his chest, arm, and forehead. "AL! COME BACK!" He clapped his hands and slammed them against the hollow body.

Nothing happened.

"Al, no!" Ed transmuted again, but there was no focus for his alchemy. It was like trying to catch smoke. "AL! Don't leave me!!" He clapped his hands, transmuting again and again and again until his view began to darken at the edges, the blood rushing in his ears the only sound.

He placed his hands against his brother's metal corpse.

"Someone..."

He got to his feet.

"Anyone..."

Throwing his hands wide he turned up and faced the sky with defiance. "KILL ME!" He roared. "KILL ME!!" He challenged. "KILL ME!!!" He pleaded.

There was no reply. He dropped his hands to his sides, staring up at the last dying rays of light.

"Edward Elric." Boric was still alive. There was a strange irony to it. Ed wanted to laugh.

"I have found something on the battlefield." The man's face was ashen, but he had managed to snap off the edges of the spear and cover the holes in his armor with wadded cloth. "I think it was meant for you." He lifted an object from the dirt. It was a severed hand wrapped around a gun.

Ed didn't resist his impulse. His laughter was manic, but sincere.

"Perhaps it was left here for this purpose," Boric said thoughtfully as he pried the hand away.

Ed spread his hands, giving the Drachan knight a clear shot. "Do it."

Boric shook his head. "You are no longer a threat to my people. To kill you now would be a mercy."

Ed could only stare at the fallen knight. His world had crashed down around him and he had no way to escape the wreckage. He'd been cheated. Cursed.

Seeing the look on Ed's face, Boric opened his mouth to speak. "But that does not mean I will deny a man his right to die." He lifted the gun slowly, holding it out to him. "Take it, and do what you will."

Ed took a step forward.

When the bullet ripped into his leg, there was a moment of clarity in Ed's mind. Two shots had been fired, almost simultaneously. The first had been a rifle blast. Boric was dead, a small red hole on his forehead the only evidence of the killing blow. The man had spasmed in death, unwittingly pulling the trigger.

It seemed to take a long time to fall.

Ed had time to think over everything that he had done. The horror he had unleashed for three years was finally over. He was free, at last.

He crashed down against something hard and hollow. The part of his brain that had detached itself from his body told him that it was Al's armored shell.

The bullet had missed the major arteries in his leg, the blood slowly pooling in the wound. His side was bleeding, though the flow was nothing compared to what it had been. It would take a while, but it was still inevitable. He leaned his head back against Al's chest and sighed. "I didn't deserve a quick death anyways."

He closed his eyes and waited for the end.

"Ed."

Ed clenched his eyes tighter. There was only one explanation for the quiet voice he was hearing. "Don't worry, Al. I'm right behind you."

"Actually... you're right on top of me."

Ed opened one eye and lifted his head slowly. "That's... not possible..." Ed was quite sure that he'd lost it, once and for all.

His younger brother sighed remorsefully. "I've been trying to get your attention... but you couldn't hear me...**"**

Ed put a hand to his eyes and laughed as the pain of his injuries seemed to catch up to him. "Dammit Al..."

"I can't move, Ed. Something's happened to the connection between my soul and the armor..."

"I thought I'd lost you..." Ed rested back against his brother. "I thought it was over." He laughed weakly and glanced down at himself, roughly calculating how much longer he'd be able to hold out. "Maybe it really is."

"ED!" Al didn't have many options left. "Stay with me."

"Dammit Al..." Ed settled against him, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry. For all of this."

"Ed, no." Al's serious voice cut through the haze. "I don't forgive you, brother! I won't forgive you, ever. If you die right now and leave me, I'll blame you for eternity!"

Ed pried his eyes open slowly. It wasn't exactly the parting message he wanted to hear from his only surviving family.

"Get up," Al commanded. "Tend your wounds. We may be beaten, but we're alive! Isn't that the most important thing?"

"Al, I..."

"No excuses! There's your bandages and your shirt on the ground next to you. Use them!"

Ed found himself obeying the orders. A part of his brain told him that it was pointless, but Edward Elric had very little patience left for the voice of rationality.

"Can you walk?" Al asked him as he worked on his side.

Ed undid his belt, wrapping the thick leather around his upper leg, right above the wound. "You're asking me that now?" He cinched it tight, biting back a cry of pain. "It's not as though I have a choice," he panted.

"Right." Al seemed to be reminding himself. "Good attitude."

Ed gripped his leg as a fresh wave of pain crashed over him. "We have to hurry." He tried to focus on his breathing, but the pain wouldn't fade. "I've only got a few hours with this tourniquet."

"Right. We need to travel fast and light..." Al said, making up his mind.

Ed rested against his brother one last time. "I can't carry you, Al." He brushed a hand back over the familiar metal plating. He knew every scratch, every tiny dent.

"You know what you need to do, brother. Do it."

Ed nodded. He clapped his hands and placed one gently on his little brother's back. A circular disc, the size of Al's blood seal, dropped away from the body. Ed reached inside and collected it.

"I know it must be hard," Ed said. "Just put up with it for a little while, Al. I'll return you to your body, no matter what."

"You too," Al added. "You're falling apart, bro. We need to do something about that."

Ed laughed through his nose and then set his nerves. "Ok, Al. Here goes nothing."

He propped himself up onto his feet, testing the strength in his wounded leg for a moment. He decided it was a good thing that he'd been injured on his automail side. His lower leg felt no pain. Satisfied, he took one step forward.

As he lifted his foot from the ground, something in his leg seemed to give way. He screamed when it cracked. The sickening sensation ran up and down his leg, radiating from the bullet hole. He knew his leg wouldn't support him. Teetering, he tried to maintain his one-legged balance, but the pain was too intense.

He fell backwards, unwilling to try to catch himself with his wounded leg. The last thing he heard was Al call out his name. His head struck something hard and then he knew no more.

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**(A/N2): **And there you have it! Please leave a review, let me know what you think! The events of these past 3 chapters are going to be haunting the boys for many many many chapters to come, so I hope it was satisfactory. I've got to do some serious editing of the next 4 chapters so there may be a bit of a break between my next update. (not to mention I'm really busy with real life stuff) If you guys give me awesome feedback, I'll certainly be more inclined to update as fast as humanly possible! Hint hint!


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Notes (12-15-06): **Yikes. Ok, that took a lot longer than expected. I really HAVE been busy though. But now I'm free! Free at last! For the next couple of weeks, anyway. At any rate, this is actually a brand new chapter! I rewrote the old one so completely, that I realized I had two chapters worth of material before I'd finished. So here's the new chapter 9!

**Art:** So, my sister is an awesome artist and I commissioned her to do a pic from chapter 8. I'm going to put a link from my bio, but here it is again: www . fileden . com / files / 2006 / 8 / 29 / 193400 / chapter8 . jpg

**Disclaimer: **I don't own FMA and I'm not making money off this.

**Chapter 9**

Winry didn't know how much time had passed, but just as suddenly as the whole traumatic ordeal had begun, it ended. Ed had given one final violent jerk, his back arching as his body stiffened, contorting with the pain of his nightmarish memories. He'd cried out one last time, his voice hoarse, throat savaged from all his screaming.

When he collapsed against her, Winry couldn't seem to do anything but lay there, arms wrapped tightly around him where she'd been trying to protect him from harm. She wasn't sure if she'd succeeded, but her own body ached from the attempt.

Panting, she buried her face in the back of his neck. His hair was lank and matted with drops of vomit and blood, but she didn't care. She could hear him breathing and feel his heart beat. The rest of the details were lost.

"Winry...?" She'd forgotten about Al. His young voice was thick with concern. "Are you alright?"

She swallowed a lump in her throat and rolled onto her back, pulling Ed with her, gently. Keeping one hand across his chest and the other over his injured side, she sat up slowly, propping him against her chest.

His hospital shirt was heavily stained and more blood streamed from the nasty gash on the bottom of his chin. Experience in the operating room told her that he needed stitches. That same experience told her she needed to distance herself from the situation if she wanted to be of any use. She tried, but it was like attempting to perform a self-amputation with blunt tools. She gave up, holding him close as her chaotic emotions swirled around her.

Ed groaned low in the back of his throat, spurring her to action before her mind had a chance to focus. She fumbled with the strings on his shirt, pulling the soiled garment away from equally soiled bandages. She needed to remove them and check his gunshot wound. She needed to get him off the floor. She needed to help him.

She needed help...

But Winry knew she wasn't going to be receiving any. She glanced toward her bed and then back to Ed. He'd fallen silent again, blissfully unaware, and helpless in her arms.

"I'm sorry..." Al's quiet voice drifted up from the corner of the room. Under normal circumstances, his words would have tugged at her heartstrings. "I wish I could..."

"It's fine," she interrupted, her words sounding brittle in her own ears. "I can handle this." She shifted her hold and got to her knees, supporting Ed under his single arm and keeping her other arm around his chest.

"Be careful with his leg," Al warned her and she nearly snapped, "I can handle this!"

"Sorry," he muttered, ashamed.

She took a calming breath to try and steady her nerves. "It's fine," she repeated, and then gave him the best smile she could muster. "It's not your fault, so just stop being sorry, ok?"

To be on the safe side, she glanced over Ed's partial leg before moving him. The brace appeared to be intact, but she wouldn't know anything for certain until she'd removed it. There wasn't much else she could do for him in their current position, so she began the slow, painful process of dragging her childhood friend across the room.

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It wasn't easy to get him into the bed alone. She was surprised by how heavy he was, even without his automail. It was awkward trying to keep his mismatched body balanced as she half lifted, half slid him up onto the mattress, paying close attention to his injuries.

"Keep an eye on him while I go get supplies," she told Al, setting him on the foot of the bed where he'd have a better view of his brother. "Yell if anything changes."

"Ok," Al said. "I think he'll be alright for now. Maybe you should take a quick break... put some ice on that bruise?"

She could feel the tender puffiness around her right eye where Ed had hit her with his elbow. She knew full well that if she didn't follow Al's advice, she wouldn't be able to see through the swelling before long. She had exactly one response, but she kept it to herself as she left the room.

Ed came first.

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Winry shook Ed's shoulder gently and leaned in close, pressing her fingers to the side of his neck to check his pulse. "Ed, can you hear me?"

"He's still out cold," Al informed her when Ed didn't respond.

"Good," she replied, pulling her medical supplies out of the first aid kit. "I'm going to stitch up his chin before he comes around."

"Won't that wake him?"

She shook her head, frowning. "Not after what he just went through." Winry cleaned the wound, sterilizing as best she could. She'd stripped him of his shirt and bandages and determined that his newest injury was still her biggest priority. The stitches on his side and back had torn, but the blood had already dried. His leg was a whole other matter, and she'd decided to deal with it once she knew more of the details.

"I've seen a lot of terrible things," she muttered, prepping her suture needle and thread. "But I've never seen anything like that..."

"I have," Al said quietly.

Winry held the needle to the light, trying to thread it and failing as her hands shook and her vision blurred with tears. "Does it happen a lot?" Her voice quivered, but she couldn't help it.

Al remained silent for a long while, and she could practically feel him watching her. "It's only really happened once before," he finally broke the silence. "To Ed, that is. But I've seen similar things happen to other soldiers."

"So you knew about it?" She lowered the needle, blinking back her tears and trying not to wince at the tight pull around her right eye. "But you didn't warn me?"

"I was going to," Al apologized. "But I wanted to explain things first. I'm just not sure how much you want to hear..."

"You promised to tell me everything, Al."

"You heard the things he said, right? During his flashback...?"

Winry nodded, trying not to think about it. There were things he'd yelled in his delirium she knew she'd never be able to forget.

"Well, during our last battle, I guess you could say the worst of Ed's injuries weren't the physical ones."

"That's how it's always been," she said softly, pressing some medical gauze against Ed's chin.

"Exactly," Al said significantly. "It's always been that way for Ed. And just like any other injury, the more you repeat the same damage, over and over, the more lasting and serious it becomes."

Winry slid her fingers into Ed's, resting their hands against his chest lightly. "So how bad is it?"

"Besides these flashbacks, we're not really sure... The only person who can answer that question refuses to talk about it."

"He doesn't want people to worry," Winry said, smiling sadly.

"Well, people worry," Al stated flatly. "Especially after his first flashback left three medics in the hospital and could have ended up killing everyone in the area..." Winry flinched, and Al stopped, realizing he'd said too much. He apologized in a small voice, "I'm sorry... you said you wanted to hear it all..."

"I do." Winry looked away, her gaze falling on the automail arm resting innocently on her nightstand. "I guess it's a good thing I took that off," she mumbled.

"The military took it away from him too, but it just made things worse. After the flashback, he slipped into a major depression, refusing to sleep and barely eating or acknowledging anybody. They finally gave his arm back to him, hoping it would help snap him out of it. And when that didn't work... they transferred him to Central Hospital's psych ward..."

"The psych ward?" Winry realized she was squeezing Ed's hand so tight, her knuckles were whitening. She disentangled her fingers and shifted to face Al. "How could they send him there?" she asked, feeling her anger rising. "After everything he's done for them! After everything he's been through!"

"I know, it's not fair," Al said, trying to appease her. "But think, Winry, what were they supposed to do? Ed wasn't exactly being very cooperative."

"They should have...!" she bit off the last part of her comment. It was useless to dwell on what should have happened, or rather, what should have happened sooner. In the end, they'd brought Ed to her. It was all she would have asked for.

Winry exhaled her frustration and turned back to the task before her. She picked up the needle and thread, feeling a renewed sense of resolve. She could handle it. She could handle anything that fate decided to throw at them.

And so could Ed.

He didn't react as her hooked needle pierced his skin. Winry sewed the wound shut, one stitch at a time, keeping it straight and neat. He'd carry the scar for the rest of his life, but that didn't mean she couldn't do everything in her power to make it easier to bear.

His physical scars had never bothered her, but in the light of the bedroom lamp, she couldn't help but notice many that were unfamiliar. She could see the battlefield tattooed across his chest and arm, his neck and his face, thin white lines of laceration and the angry red tissue of wounds that ran much deeper. He'd always put his own safety last.

As she worked in silence, Winry felt her grief settle about her like a heavy fog, diffusing the momentum that her anger had given her. Finishing with his chin, she placed a bandage over the stitches and then traded her needle and thread for a sponge and a bowl of warm water. She dabbed the blood from his wounds and wiped away the last traces of vomit.

His back was in worse shape than his front. She carefully rolled him onto his right side to clean the exit wound, and even after a month or more of healing, Winry couldn't help but wince at the sight. It looked painful. She was just thankful that the bullet had struck muscle instead of bone or vital internal organs. The odds of sustaining a mere flesh wound from a shot to the abdomen were lower than Winry cared to calculate.

He really had been lucky, in a sense. But after everything that had happened, Winry was finding it difficult to look on the bright side of things.

Words slipped from her mouth as a single tear she hadn't felt form, trickled down her face. "Why didn't you protect him, Al?"

Al gave a small choked cry, "I tried!"

She knew it was true. Al would have done everything in his power to save his brother from more pain. But watching Ed as he lay unconscious, seeing him looking weak and vulnerable, it was almost more than she could bear.

It was unreasonable, but Winry felt like she needed to blame someone. "Maybe you didn't try hard enough..."

Al must have sensed what she was doing, for he took in her accusation without a word. The silence stretched between them, straining to the breaking point.

It was Winry who gave in first. She let out one shaky breath and brushed her tears away with the back of her hand before turning to address the small wooden box. "I'm just exhausted, Al," she sniffed and tried to sound convincing. "Don't mind me."

"You're just being honest, Winry," he corrected her gently. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"No," she disagreed, coming back to her senses. "I'm being totally irrational." She gave him another smile, turning one corner of her mouth up, wryly. "Isn't it your job to keep tabs on me and Ed so we don't do or say something stupid?" she joked lightly, trying to clear the tension.

"Sure," Al replied, sounding more forlorn than Winry would have liked. "But if I was any good at that job, none of this would have happened in the first place."

Winry bit her lip and stared down at her hands feeling guilty. "I'm sorry, Al."

"I'm sorry too," he said simply. "In the back of my head I knew Ed was breaking down, but I didn't move fast enough. After everything Ed had sacrificed for me, I didn't want to hurt his feelings by telling him he was losing control. And then, when he needed me the most, I failed him..." He continued, softly, and Winry sensed that his words weren't really meant for her. "If an apology could change things, I'd apologize a thousand times over..."

"What happened out there on the battlefield?" Winry asked uncertainly. "From those things he said, it seems like Ed thought you'd died..."

"I was trying to protect him and I just collapsed... I can't quite explain it myself, but I could sort of feel my control of the armor slipping away."

"But... why would that happen?"

"I'm not sure, exactly. But I have a theory. Do you remember the last time we were in Central together?" Al asked, not waiting for a response. "I told you about something we'd discovered about the nature of the connection between my soul and the armored body."

"I remember, Al..." Winry could almost hear the conversation. It was one she often worried about during the five long years of their absence. "You told Ling that your body wasn't immortal... that it was like a time bomb, instead..."

"Ed and I called it the Rejection Effect."

Winry wasn't an alchemy expert, but there seemed to be something missing from Al's theory. "But, if that's really what happened, then why are you still here at all? Wouldn't it have destroyed the connection completely?"

"Right," Al gave a breathless sigh. "That's the part I can't figure out either. I mentioned it to Ed during one of the few times he'd actually talk to me, and it seemed like he'd come to his own conclusions... he wouldn't share them though."

"Hmm," Winry said thoughtfully, turning back to Ed, and pulling a blanket up over his bare shoulder. "Maybe he didn't want to worry you?"

Al snorted, "I was obviously worrying about it. That's not exactly a rational excuse for keeping me in the dark."

"And we both know that Ed always acts rationally," Winry said, covering her worry with sarcasm. "He's really quite level-headed."

"And sensible," Al added.

"Not to mention, practical."

"I hate you guys..."

Winry spun, nearly spilling the cleaning supplies as she set them aside. "ED! You're awake!"

"Am I?" His voice was painfully raw. He squeezed his eyes shut, knitting his brow in concentration or pain. "What's...?" his voice cracked, and he didn't try to finish his question.

"You're ok, Ed." Winry leaned forward, placing her hand on his shoulder, hoping the contact would soothe him. "Everything's going to be ok."

Ed shifted and Winry helped him roll onto his back. He groaned and freed his hand from the blanket, groping blindly. "Win... ry?"

"It's me, Ed," she said, taking his hand and squeezing reassuringly. "You're at my home in Rush Valley."

He gritted his teeth, pushing his head back into the pillow.

"Try to relax," she urged. His hand shook in her grasp and she pressed it against her chest to steady him. "Ed, you need to..." she trailed off, lowering his hand slowly. "Ed?" She put her other hand to his shoulder, shaking him gently. "Ed?"

"Winry," Al spoke her name and she twitched as though startling out of a daze. "He passed out again."

She sat back on the bed, feeling numb.

"He might be like this for a while," Al said softly, apologetically.

She let go of Ed's hand, placing it on his covers. "I'm not sure if I can take much more of this," she said, realizing the truthfulness of it as the words left her mouth. She was starting to feel sick, and she knew it had nothing to do with any actual illness.

"It's trauma, Winry. For both of you."

She pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, hugging herself tightly. Al was absolutely right, but there was something in his statement that bothered Winry more.

"And what about you, Al?"

He didn't have an answer for her.

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**(A/N2): **Anybody out there still reading? 8D


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